Chapter 5: The Pursuer

Luo An surveyed the crime scene, deliberately ignoring the onlookers in the distance. His expression shifted slightly as he began to reconstruct the killer’s actions, using the methods of an assassin to simulate the crime.

Time seemed to flow backward. In the darkness of the park’s path, the murderer followed Mike at a steady pace. Sensing something amiss, Mike began to jog, but he couldn’t shake his pursuer. Then, the killer called out Mike’s name. Helpless, Mike turned to respond—bang!

Luo An narrowed his eyes, mimicking the motion of firing a gun with his right hand. He stood for several seconds where Mike’s body lay, then suddenly dashed toward the woods to the east.

Mona, standing nearby, watched Luo An’s movements in utter confusion. Seeing him stride into the trees, she hurried to follow, but the branches proved too dense. She ducked beneath one, only to find that Luo An had already vanished.

“Damn it!”

Mona cursed aloud. She couldn’t understand how Luo An moved so quickly through the woods—they had both graduated from the FBI Academy in Virginia. Had someone given Luo An extra training?

Realizing she couldn’t keep up, Mona wisely chose to return to the crime scene and wait for Luo An to find her.

Meanwhile, Luo An paid no mind to the angry cries of the disturbed lovebirds as he rushed through the forest, swiftly emerging on the eastern edge of the park, where a busy road stretched before him. He observed the stream of vehicles and the shops across the street, pondered for a few seconds, then turned and made his way back.

At the crime scene, Mona sat fiddling with her laptop. When she spotted Luo An, she waved him over. As Luo An dropped onto the bench beside her, she finally asked, “So? Did you find any clues?”

“Of course,” Luo An replied, nodding with a smile. “The killer is probably a former soldier who fell on hard times after leaving the service, maybe even ex-special forces.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because along the route, I found only the footprints of NYPD officers and their police dogs—nothing else.”

Mona was speechless. She hadn’t expected Luo An to justify finding no clues with such conviction. Yet Luo An insisted that finding nothing was, in itself, the greatest clue.

“The path I just took is the most logical escape route after committing a murder,” he explained. “There are countless branches in those woods—anyone passing through would inevitably snap a few. But every spot where I found freshly broken branches, there were either police dog tracks, or both dog and officer footprints. Nowhere else did I find new breaks or any clear tracks.”

“Only someone with advanced counter-surveillance training could manage that—someone from special forces,” Luo An concluded.

After listening, Mona paused her typing, tilting her head in confusion. Was her FBI training a sham?

“What’s wrong?” Luo An asked.

“Nothing,” Mona replied, shaking her head. She slid her laptop toward Luo An. “The autopsy report just came in. It shows a small amount of alcohol in the victim’s stomach.”

“He’d been drinking before he died?” Luo An’s face brightened as he glanced at the report. “Are there any bars on the south side of the park? Can you check?”

“Why the south side?” Mona asked, her fingers already searching.

“Because the victim came from the south… it’s just a hunch,” Luo An answered.

Mona pursed her lips, but a few seconds later she finished searching and turned the screen to Luo An. “Only two bars in the next block. There are more farther away.”

“Alright, let’s start with these two. We have plenty of time.”

“No, we only have three days.”

***

No one at the bar on the left recognized Mike. Luo An and Mona headed to the bar on the right.

“Have you seen this man?” Mona showed the bartender a photo. He shook his head. “He’s not a regular. I didn’t see him here yesterday.”

Mona glanced at Luo An, who turned his attention to a pretty red-haired waitress chatting nearby. The bartender noticed and called her over loudly.

The waitress, whose most prominent feature was her curvaceous figure, lit up when she saw Luo An. “Hello, just call me Christine,” she said, though her eyes were fixed only on Luo An.

Mona rolled her eyes and thrust the photo between them, blocking Christine’s view. “Have you seen this man?”

Christine didn’t mind having her view blocked. She winked at Luo An and took the photo. “I’ve seen him. He came in last night, ordered two glasses of red wine, and sat in the corner as if waiting for someone. But no one showed up, so he drank both glasses and left alone.”

Mona’s lips twitched. She glanced at Luo An in surprise—so Mike had indeed entered the park from the south.

Oblivious to Mona’s reaction, Luo An quickly asked, “Did anyone come in after him? Or was anyone looking for him?”

“Is there a reward for answering that?” Christine asked coyly.

Luo An was speechless. Mona snorted and patted Luo An’s shoulder. “If your information is useful, this man is yours for the night.”

Christine grinned, slipped a note into Luo An’s pocket, and said, “There was an older man at the bar. After your guy left, the old man followed him out.”

Luo An turned at once to the bartender. “Do you have security cameras here?”

Christine scoffed at the bartender. “Only one, and it points at the cash register—so they can make sure we don’t steal.”

“Christine!” the bartender protested, but she ignored him. She dug through her pockets, pulled out a stack of notes, fished out one, and handed it to Luo An with a shrug. “This is that old man’s contact information.”

Seeing Luo An and Mona gaping at her, Christine put her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest proudly. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“See you tonight, handsome!” Christine called, waving from the bar’s doorway as Luo An and Mona left. Luo An quietly tucked the note away as Mona climbed into the car, pulled out her laptop, and accessed the FBI’s internal network to search the phone number’s owner.

“Got it,” she announced. The screen displayed the result: “The number belongs to West Watts, age fifty-six, a professor at New York University. He lives in Scarsdale. His wife died of cancer six months ago…”

“A university professor?” Luo An, behind the wheel, massaged his temples. “Did I get it all wrong?”

“To be honest, I never thought your analysis was right—except for the victim entering from the south,” Mona replied, eyes still on her laptop. “Let’s go to West’s house and bring him in.”

“Alright.” Luo An nodded, started the car, and turned away from the bar.

The only sound in the car was Mona’s typing. Luo An felt the silence growing awkward, and was about to speak when Mona suddenly jolted and shouted, “Shit! West died in a car accident!”